


Go On

by Michelle_A_Emerlind



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: AU season 3, Explicit Language, M/M, Spoilers through "Hounded", Spoilers through 3x06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 04:38:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2679419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle_A_Emerlind/pseuds/Michelle_A_Emerlind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU of Season 3. Rick needs some help healing and Daryl is there to do the job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go On

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU of Season 3 from "Say the Word." 
> 
> Also, if you want to have a LOT of fluffy feels, go listen to the song "Baby Be Mine" by Parlotones, because it fits the feel of the ending to this fic really well.

The baby will live and that’s Daryl’s first concern. They fuss over her, filling the bottle full and he makes sure she takes her first drink. Should be a stronger one, Daryl thinks, for this world. But he already feels easier, knowing that he made it back with the formula and that she’s eating and her cries are dimming down. She’ll be okay, he tells himself. She has to be. They can’t lose anymore. He can’t lose another one like Sophia, and Rick...dammit, Rick can’t lose anymore either.

Which is his second concern. Glenn says Rick is in the tomes, killing. Daryl just nods and leaves the group to gather around the new baby, breathing the first sigh of relief they’ve had since the last attack. He walks to the locked door and goes through to the Walker side of the prison, closing the door behind him. Crossbow held in front of him, ready, he starts searching.

It’s not to hard to find Rick. He follows the trail of splattered bodies and the only echoing sounds in the dead prison. As he gets closer, it’s hard to tell what is the dead moaning, dying, or Rick’s own grief. He finds Rick with two Walkers, one in front and one behind him. Daryl tightens his grip on his bow, but he isn’t needed as Rick smashes their heads in with the axe, dripping blood.

When the second one dies, the prison quiets. “That the last of them?” Daryl asks. Rick doesn’t respond, just stares at the floor, his eyes glassy. Daryl watches his throat as he swallows hard and moves forward, making his way further in, to where Lori was. Daryl follows him at a distance, but after about ten yards, Rick stops. He whispers something to the bloodstained walls.

Daryl gets closer, but frustrated, Rick yells, “Leave me the fuck alone.” Daryl takes a step back. In the whole time he’s been with Rick--the road, the farm, the hard and long winter months--he doesn’t think he’s ever heard Rick say fuck. It’s such a normal thing for Daryl, such an abnormality for Rick. He stands in front of Daryl, bloody and broken, but at least he’s speaking and that’s all they can ask for in these times.

In response, Daryl just nods. “You got it.” He starts walking back to the others. “Be back later though,” he tells Rick, “if you don’t come out.” He holds Rick’s gaze and the glassiness recedes just a little. Rick nods, knowing that Daryl means it.

***

It’s hours later when Rick emerges to find Daryl leaning against the wall, right inside the door that separates their cellblock from danger. He blinks at the light, at Daryl’s hard gaze, and the tension that has overrun his body with a fresh new horror lessens just the tiniest bit. He stares at Daryl, all lean muscle and grace and, not for the first time, thinks that he’s a damn better friend than Shane ever was.

“You done?” Daryl asks.

Rick just nods and swallows hard. He puts his thumb on the bridge of his nose and tries to quit shaking. “You--.” He laughs and he knows that he’s cracking. “You could have helped me out in there, man.”

Daryl shrugs. “Thought you might want to do that yourself. Best way to get therapy these days.” He pushes himself off the wall. “But you need help burying?”

Rick sets his jaw and shakes his head violently. “There’s nothing left to bury.” Rick braces for the platitudes, for the apologies and the condescension of _I’m sorry she’s dead_ , but this is Daryl. Daryl who doesn’t say anything, but nods and meets his eyes with more emotion in them than Rick can even stand right now. Things are all raw, he thinks, the world laid out at his feet and he can’t say anything except the truth. Because this is Daryl and he owes him that. “The phone rang. There was a phone...in the room where...where Lori. It rang and there was this woman. She said they had a safe place. A safe place, Daryl. They’ll call back in two hours, so I have to go back.” Daryl opens his mouth, but Rick cuts him off. “I know. I know it sounds crazy. But it’s not. I mean, what if it’s not?” He leans closer to Daryl, his eyes wide, eyebrows raised. “What if it’s not?”

Daryl studies him, his gaze fixed and unmoving. “You’re not going in there alone again, though. Damn baby needs her father.”

Rick feels his body relax as it’s angled to Daryl. “You support me?”

“Always,” Daryl says with a nod. “Two hours and then we go.”

***

Daryl’s not stupid, no matter what people think of him. He’s been called a lot of things in his past--redneck, trash, dumb junkie--but if anyone would bother to notice, then they’d see someone quick on his feet and good at figuring the world out. Which is why Daryl has no question in his mind that Rick is fucking losing it. The guy’s officially gone around the bend one too many times and Daryl can see flashes in his eyes that make him nervous and put him on edge. But this is Rick. Part of the group. And Daryl doesn’t give up on his own and he especially doesn’t give up on Rick.

Which is how he finds himself alone in a prison full of dead Walkers, Rick leading the way back to a ghost phone. He thinks that maybe he should have told Glenn or Hershel that Rick is off his rocker. But that feels too much like betraying a friend’s trust. And, let’s face it, haven’t each of them gone around the bend once or twice? Daryl hears his own brother’s voice in his head sometimes. Hell, he sees him sometimes. So he’s not really one to talk. He just hopes he can bring Rick back around. Sometimes people just need to see the brink so they can come back to the living. Isn’t that what Andrea said about Beth? You need to push the edge so you know where you stand?

They get to the room with the phone and Daryl takes a quick look around--the blood on floor where Lori lay, the dead and gutted Walker in the corner. He grinds his teeth, the thought of Rick having to see this alone making him almost sick. But it was Rick’s choice, he tells himself. And something he had to see. Rick sits by the phone, stares at it with rapt attention. Daryl walks over and lifts it off its hook, hears nothing but silence.

“They’ll call,” Rick says and Daryl just replaces the receiver and waits with him quietly until Rick grabs the phone, jerking it up in the familiar motion of someone responding to ringing. He listens to Rick-- _how did you know I had a wife? I don’t want to talk about it_ \--until he sets the phone down, looking dazed at the wall opposite him.

“They--” Rick starts, but can’t seem to finish. He puts his elbows on the table, his head in his hands. Daryl can’t tell if his breath is heavy or sobbing and isn’t that a funny thing? He’s heard plenty of both sounds within the last ten months, so he should be able to tell the difference, but with Rick it’s all jumbled together like it doesn’t matter anymore. Like this is his life and it’s just how he breathes.

Daryl reaches out and touches his shoulder slowly, but squeezes hard. Rick puts his hands down and looks at Daryl, whose gaze strays to Rick’s shoulders. Daryl never touches him. Not unless he has to. There’s reasons for that, but now’s not the time, so Daryl takes his hand away and looks at the ground, carefully not mentioning the phone.

“You ever lost someone,” Rick starts and then stops. “Stupid question. Someone...you ever lost someone you loved so much and you hated too? God, I…” he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I was such a jerk to her.”

The silence is deafening, so Daryl speaks into the empty prison. “My ex. In Kansas City. When the outbreak hit, I lost my ex. Stupid, really. Why should I care? We broke up years ago and it’s not like I was calling every night or something, you know?”

“Were you in love?” Rick asks and Daryl hates that question because he’s never known how to answer it. He shrugs.

“Kind of, I guess. Never really figured that part out. But I know what you mean. Loving someone and hating them. And losing them.”

Rick nods and stares at the phone, his brow furrowed as if he can make it ring by sheer force. “You never know. She could be alive,” Rick says.

Daryl shakes his head. “Nah.” His blood pressure rises and he can feel his heart in his throat. “He was a dumb son of a bitch.” He swallows. There, he thinks. Now Rick knows. Rick, who is studying him with a surprised, but open expression. Daryl fills the silence. “My friend called me. Told me he was dead and that he was one of the first ones to go. You know what I said? Fucker deserved it. But I didn’t mean that.” Daryl shakes his head. “I didn’t mean that at all. But I said it.”

Rick just nods. “I’m sorry. I---”

“Don’t say anything,” Daryl says. “To the others. Hershel would probably string me up, he likes God so much.”

Rick looks at the floor. “He wouldn’t do that. There’s so few of us, anyway.”

“Yeah, probably,” Daryl concedes. “Still.”

“I won’t,” Rick promises, eyes on the phone. “You think you could leave me alone for awhile?”

“Yeah, man. Sure.” Daryl heads for the door, but stops himself. He walks back and puts his hand on Rick’s shoulder a second time. “Rick. We can’t lose anyone else. You know that right?”

Rick swallows and nods.

***

“Hey,” Rick says, the next morning, eyes boring into Daryl. “You trust me, right?”

“Always,” Daryl says, keeping himself calm and steady. He doesn’t know how to do anything but.

“Good, because…” Rick pulls Daryl into a corner, away from the others and Daryl’s skin burns where Rick touches him. “It was Lori on the phone. I know. Before you say anything, I know. And I’m...I think I’m seeing her, too. I keep getting these glimpses. I need to get away. You understand that, right?”

Daryl nods, but he narrows his eyes, tries to think about anything but Rick’s rough hands. “Yeah, I understand.”

“I’m going on a supply run,” Rick says and stares at the high windows in the cellblock. “We need to get the baby some food anyway. With Lori...with Lori.”

“Rick,” Daryl says, his eyes full of concern. “I already got it. Yesterday. She’s fine.”

Rick blinks at him, so Daryl repeats himself. “Maggie and I went on a run yesterday. We got it. She’s fine. She slept through the night, Beth says. Slept like a pre-apocalyptic baby.”

Rick keeps staring at him but after a moment, he slowly nods. “She’s okay?”

“Yeah. Beth’s taking care of her right now. Why don’t you go see?”

“No,” Rick says instantly with force behind his voice. “No, we still need supplies. And we still need to check out the nearby houses. See if anything’s in them. I still need to go. You watch the others. I’ll be back by sundown.”

He moves toward the door, but Daryl is lightning quick, stepping in his way. “I’ll go with you. Glenn’s got it.”

“They need you here,” Rick says, but Daryl cuts him off.

“Glenn’s got it. ‘Sides, you haven’t slept in days. Bet you wouldn’t see a Walker biting your ankles if it screamed your name.” Daryl grabs his bow and slings it over his back, but Rick still doesn’t move.

“...stay here,” he says. “I’ll take Glenn.”

Daryl furrows his brow. “Nah, Glenn’s good here. You and me, like always.” He nods toward the door, before barking at Rick. “Let’s go.”

They walk through the door and then out into the field, open, green, and free. Daryl heads straight for the gate, but Rick hangs back further than he usually does. Following, but at a distance. Daryl figures he needs space, so he doesn’t say anything through the first gate and even through the second. But when they are on the other side with the small straggle of Walkers and Rick still isn’t close by, Daryl turns and snaps. “Get your ass up here.”

Rick quickens his pace, but doesn’t look like he likes it. One of the Walkers turns slowly to Daryl, but it gets an arrow in the eye for its attention. Daryl walks over and pulls the arrow out and turns to Rick, who’s looking at him like he’s a stranger. Daryl sets his jaw and stalks past him. “I’m not any different you know. Asshole.”

He doesn’t turn around, letting his ears do the seeing for him. There is silence behind him for a good minute, then he hears the first soft footsteps that Rick makes, than louder ones as he jogs to catch up. “Sorry,” Rick mumbles and Daryl shrugs.

***

They find a row of houses they haven’t checked before and they start looting. A quick glance tells them that the four houses bunched together (first in what looked like an ongoing housing development) are all clear of both the living and the dead. The last house doesn’t look promising--newly built and only half finished. The other three are liveable, but one looks empty. That leaves two that are good for looting. They go to the one on the left first and find the furnishings of a young couple, no kids. There are pictures on the mantle and a dresser in disarray--Rick thinks of Lori, how she took the pictures and left the supplies. His throat closes and he struggles to breath, but then Daryl’s voice cuts through and brings him back to the present. “At least they got out of here,” he mutters as he looks around.

There isn’t food in the kitchen--the couple must have taken it when they were leaving--but there are clothes that several of the group could use and there’s soap and some medicine. Daryl finds a small notebook and hands it to Rick. “For Glenn,” he says, “He’s been taking up Dale’s job. Thought it be easier to write down the days.” Rick nods and adds it to their pile. Beyond those few things, there isn’t much they can scavenge from the house, so they move to the second one, which is more promising.

It’s evident upon entering that a family with kids lived here, which makes it easy for Daryl to find a stuffed unicorn and add it to their pile. “She’s going to need something,” Daryl says in response to Rick’s eyebrow raise and Rick curses himself for not thinking of his daughter. For not being there for her and making Daryl pick up the slack.

“I’m sorry,” he says and doesn’t know exactly why he’s apologizing. Maybe it’s because of the way he acted in the prison, going off half-cocked on a killing mission. Or maybe it’s because of the phone or the baby. Or perhaps, he thinks, it’s because of the shitty way he’s treating Daryl when all Daryl’s tried to do was be honest.

Daryl must know what he means, though, because he just looks at Rick and nods, like he understands all of that and more. Like he knows Rick better than Rick knows himself and Rick isn’t a fool enough to think that he’s nervous around Daryl this morning because he knows Daryl is gay. No, he knows it’s something else. He’s not worried about Daryl. He’s worried about himself and what he’ll do.

“Daryl, I--” he starts, but he doesn’t get to finish. Something outside bangs into stray debris. Daryl quiets Rick with a motion of his hand and he sprints to the window to lift the curtain. Almost instantly he drops it and kneels to the floor. Rick sits low, following Daryl’s movements.

“Herd,” Daryl mouths and sinks down lower against the window. Rick makes his way slowly across the wood floor to Daryl and looks at the window where Daryl had just been. Sure enough, one is passing right by the house, another across the street, and more are coming from the woods and the end of the sub-division. Rick kneels next to Daryl and puts his mouth close to Daryl’s ear. He ignores the way that Daryl’s skin breaks out in goosebumps, the shivers he thinks he sees.

“Wait for it to pass?” he whispers to Daryl and Daryl nods. Rick motions to the kitchen, which is smaller and more secure, with less windows, but a back door for easy escape. Daryl nods and they make their way there, carefully lifting the table and bracing it against the open doorway to the living room for some small measure of enclosure. They sit with their backs against the stove, close to the door, and they listen. Outside, the herd moves, barely noticeable if they hadn’t been trained in the winter months for the small sounds.

Daryl leans over Rick and muffles his voice against Rick’s shoulder and it’s Rick this time who shivers. “Think it’s small. It’ll pass,” Daryl says and Rick just nods, checks his gun for ammo and then places it in his holster. He holds his knife for easy access. Silent until you absolutely can’t be, he thinks.

They wait, each one of them tense for the sounds of the herd realizing their presence. But the longer they wait, the more they relax. After half an hour, Daryl checks the windows, says it’s thinning out, but there’s still twenty or so that have stayed and are milling around. They decide to wait to see if they’ll move out, so Daryl returns to sitting next to Rick, pressed as close as they can be without touching.

After another half hour of silence, Rick leans forward. “I’m sorry,” he says, “about the yard. I was being a jackass.”

Daryl looks at him with that knowing gaze and just shrugs. “It’s fine. Not like I haven’t had assholes treat me like that before.”

“Yeah,” Rick says, “but I don’t want to be them. I just got a lot going on and that’s not an excuse, but you know what I mean. I don’t think any differently of you.”

“Good,” Daryl says, “because I guess you’re the closest thing I got to a friend out here.”

“We’re all friends,” Rick says, “we’re family now. You know?”

Daryl nods. “Yeah.”

“It just surprised me.”

Daryl scoffs. “Surprises everyone. People look at me like ‘damn, trailer trash can’t be gay.’ It’s stupid. Ignorant.”

“Yeah,” Rick says, “I shouldn’t have--”

“It’s cool. Did it’s job, though.”

“It’s job?” Rick questions.

“Got you to stop thinking about Lori.”

“I still think about Lori.”

“Yeah, but not for that second.”

Rick furrows his brow and then laughs, muffling his voice with his hand for the Walkers. “I guess it did, huh? For a second.”

They sit in silence and Rick feels the dark cloud come over him again at the mention of Lori’s name. He thinks about Carl, about the baby, about Shane. “I hate her,” he whispers into the house.

Daryl shakes his head. “She made mistakes like all of us. But she tried, man. She did.”

“No,” Rick says and covers his mouth to keep from sobbing. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets himself shake to keep any loud sounds at bay. “The baby,” he finally gasps out. “I hate her. Lori would be alive if I had just let her take those damn pills. I wish…” he cuts himself off, presses his mouth into his hand and takes another moment. Next to him, he feels the heat of Daryl’s body, the comfort of another living being who’s listening to him and only him. “I wish she hadn’t had her. I wish she never did. Then Lori would be alive.”

Rick squeezes his eyes shut harder and he feels shuffling and then Daryl’s arm is around him and it’s so unexpectedly comforting that he doesn’t know what to do with it so he files it away under the flood of emotion that is coursing through his body. “She’s a baby,” Daryl whispers into his ear and Rick jerks, opening his eyes and raising his voice.

“She’s Shane’s,” Rick says and Daryl shushes him. He looks to the windows and waits. Rick bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself silent, but no Walkers come, so he continues. “She’s Shane’s,” he whispers. “And I can’t deal with that, Daryl.”

“She’s yours,” Daryl says and looks him in the eye. Rick tries to look away, but Daryl smacks him hard upside the head and forces Rick to look at him. “She’s yours. Alright?”

Rick holds his gaze. “How do you know?”

“Because she looks like you, you dumbass,” Daryl says, still holding his chin in place, “And you’d know that if you bothered to see her.”

“You’re sure?” Rick says and realizes in that moment that if Daryl says yes, he will believe it with his whole heart. Because Daryl knows. And because he trusts him.

Daryl nods. “I’m sure.”

Rick takes a shaky breath and nods. Daryl lets him go and he takes a second one, then a third. He focuses on his breathing, in and out. Lori’s dead, he tells himself, but he has their baby. And that’s better.

“Talk about something else,” Daryl says. “To get your mind off it before you bring in those damn Walkers.”

Rick nods and swallows hard. He can’t think of what else to say. What else is there but Lori and Shane and Carl and the baby? What is there except for all this death and destruction? He goes back, searches his memories for something good, something to take his mind off of things. He thinks about Daryl with a boyfriend in Kansas City, thinks about Daryl kissing another man.

He laughs breathlessly. “When I was in high school, I was in love with the quarterback.”

Daryl moves his head back slightly and gives Rick an expression of pure disbelief. “Man, you’re crazy,” he says and Rick finds it funny that the phone and the ghost of his dead wife don’t get that reaction out of Daryl, but this does.

“His name was Trevor,” Rick says, “He was short, you know? But lean and fast and he had good muscles. And he had dimples. I remember the dimples.” He laughs. “God, that’s stupid. That’s so stupid. It doesn’t even feel real anymore.” He looks at the kitchen tile, the dust surrounding the reds and oranges. “I was with Lori, so it didn’t matter. I was too much of a coward to do anything about it, you know? And I thought, hey, I had Lori and I loved her too, so it didn’t make any difference. I guess it was easy to not think about it.”

Daryl nods and then scoffs. “It’s not easy for me, man. Hell, I can’t even get it up around a woman. Merle took me to a club once.” Daryl looks Rick square in the eye and lifts his chin defiantly. “Bought me a whore. Took me upstairs and told me ‘here you go’ and left me to it. You know what I did? I begged that stupid prostitute to tell my brother I did it. Jesus.” He looks off to the other side of the kitchen, the open dishwasher filled with bowls and plates and he smiles. “She did, too. Dammit, she did. Walked right up to him and said that I was piss poor at it, but that I’d done it and then walks off with her money, into the night, like some kind of gay whore avenger or something. And then Merle left me alone about it for awhile. So it was good.”

Rick smiles. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you tell a good story about Merle.”

Daryl grins. “Shit, that’s not a good story. You want to hear a good story?” Then it’s hours of Daryl telling Rick the shit he and Merle did as kids, the light stuff like the time that Merle stole him a Ralph Lauren polo because the kids were picking on Daryl for his plaid shirts and the time he and Merle hitchhiked two hundred miles to sneak into Creedence Clearwater Revival which was a shitty concert, but one of the best memories Daryl has. Rick knows that there are other things Daryl isn’t saying--his abusive father, the drugs, juvie. But for now, Rick doesn’t care. He can almost pretend that the world is okay. That they are just two dudes hanging out in an abandoned house, swapping childhood stories, and there’s not Walkers outside and not people in the prison who rely on them and not a baby laying in a cell with a father she’s never seen.

***  
The herd clears by nightfall and Daryl and Rick make it back with supplies for the group. Daryl deposits the bag of goods in front of Carol and Hershel for distribution and Rick walks purposefully up to Beth. “You have her?” he asks Beth and Daryl watches him closely. “My baby. She’s okay?”

Beth nods and takes him into one of the cells. Daryl follows, but at a distance, hanging back in the shadows. Inside the cell, Carl is sitting by the bed, watching the baby. When he sees Rick, he jumps up, moves like he wants to hug him, but instead just tips his hat and straightens his posture, being more grown up than any kid his age should ever be. Rick walks into the cell and looks down at the baby laying on a pile of blankets, fussing softy.

“We’re looking for a box,” Beth says, “something we can use as a crib. We thought we could take turns watching her. To help you out.”

“I appreciate that,” Rick says and smiles for the first time in days. “I do.”

“She’s going to need a name,” Carl says and Rick nods.

“That she is. What do you think we should name her?”

“I was thinking Sofia?” Carl says and Daryl frowns, the pain a little too fresh even after the winter. “Or Jackie or Andrea or….Lori?”

Rick doesn’t say anything, but he cracks a pained smile at Carl.

“Asskicker,” Daryl says from the background and walks forward. “Until you guys pick a name. We’ll call her Little Asskicker.”

Rick smiles and looks at Daryl with warm eyes and Daryl hasn’t seen that look in so long that it almost floors him. He wants to lean into Rick, to soothe him and be soothed, but this isn’t the time and it’s sure as hell not the place, so he just shoves Rick closer to the bed. “Pick her up. She wants her Daddy.”

Rick walks forward and takes the baby into his arms and holds her close to his chest. She fusses for a minute longer, before calming down. Rick rocks her softly and looks down into her face and Daryl watching Rick watch her is almost perfect. He smiles and it’s real and Daryl breathes a sigh of relief because he’s right. She does want her Daddy. She needs him. Rick looks up from her to Daryl and nods. “She does look like me,” he says and then he turns to Carl. “And she looks like you, too.”

Carl beams at his dad and his little sister and it’s as good as they’re ever going to get. Rick holds her for a second longer before walking forward and offering the bundle of blankets to Daryl. “You hold her, too.”

Daryl thinks about protesting, but he can’t come up with a good reason to, so he lets Rick put the baby in his arms.

“You saved her,” Rick says, “when I wasn’t there. She’s not just mine. She’s all of ours.” The group gathers around them and Daryl feels warm.

***

The days pass slowly, but Rick is thankful for it. With the gates secure and the prison locked down, they can breathe for once. The two prisoners add to the group and do their fair share. The crops grow and Daryl’s hunts are successful--both with food and with reducing the immediate threat to their surroundings. Every once in a while, a herd passes and when it does, they buckle down, but the stone walls hold. Life, for once, is good and steady.

But not everything lasts. One night, a group of men are spotted in town, looting, and from the look of them they aren’t trying to make nice. The group gathers and decides that the best course of action is negotiation and, if not successful, pre-emptive action. Rick organizes everyone quickly and splits them into their duties--leaving the majority of the group with baby Judith (recently named after much debate) and camp, but taking himself, Glenn, Maggie, and Oscar with him for backup to the town.

As they are gathering to leave, Daryl finds him and corners him alone. “I should be going,” he says, “you know I should be and you know I don’t want to be here with the fight out there.”

Rick nods understandingly and puts his hand on Daryl’s shoulder, his hand tingling where he touches him. “I need you here, Daryl,” he says, “I need you...just in case.”

“I’m your best reinforcement,” Daryl says. “Use me.”

“No. I…” Rick sets his jaw and nods to himself, gathering the courage. “What if something happened to me?”

Daryl shakes his head. “Don’t say that, man. Don’t.”

“Someone needs to be here for her,” Rick says, raising his eyebrows and giving Daryl his best intense glare. “Someone needs to take care of Judith and I don’t trust anyone else but you. You know that? No one else. If it’s not me, it’s got to be you.”

He watches Daryl swallow and then shrug Rick’s hand off. “I get it.” He turns away and starts walking back to the cells. “I hate it, though,” he calls back and Rick figures that that’s good enough.

***

Daryl stays in the guard tower all day, waiting anxiously for Rick’s return. He knows in his gut that Rick can handle himself and he’s just as confident in Glenn and Maggie. Even Oscar has won over his trust, proving himself in the last weeks to be valuable and loyal.

But even if Daryl’s gut knows it, his heart doesn’t. He focuses on breathing evenly, because if he doesn’t, he’ll think too much about empty cars and bodies in the street. He’ll think about their people laid out and he’ll think about Rick. About Judith without her.

It upsets him that he’s become so weak. So dependent on seeing Rick’s face right next to him, feeling his proximity so that he knows they’re both okay. He moves through stages as he waits for the group to return--worry, then anger that Rick left him there, then understanding when he thinks of Judith, then fear.

Luckily, he’s not the only one left at the prison and Carol climbs the tower steps to check in on him. He snaps at her when she’s within range, tells her he doesn’t need to talk and he doesn't need babysitting, but she doesn’t listen. She rarely does, he thinks.

Carol stands next to him and looks over the field. “You worried about him?” She asks. Daryl doesn’t respond, just keeps watching, but he knows that Carol is perceptive, so there’s no point in lying. He nods.

“You spend a lot of time together,” she says and smiles.

“We all spend a lot of time together,” Daryl counters, not willing to admit it yet. “You spend a lot of time with Axel. Seen you two up in this tower yourself.”

Carol blushes and laughs. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye. “We were talking about you, not me.” She bites her lip. “You told me he was cute. When we were on the road. Remember?”

“Damn, girl, that was in _confidence,_ ” Daryl says, frowning, and cursing himself for admitting his whole life story to Carol.

“He needs someone,” Carol says. “You do, too.”

“Not gonna matter if he’s dead, is it?” Daryl says, still staring at the field.

“It’s Rick,” Carol tells him. “He always comes back.”

Daryl nods and lets her pacify him before returning to the cellblock. And really, he keeps thinking, Rick always does come back. But, then again, Daryl’s always with Rick to watch him, to make sure he returns.

***

The sound of the car arrives before Daryl sees it and his blood begins pounding in his veins. When the familiar lime green comes into view, he relaxes, his entire body breathing a sigh of relief. He watches as Rick bounds out of the car and counts the others as they emerge, all alive and wound free. Rick talks to Beth, who points at the guard tower and Daryl watches as Rick jogs his way, takes the steps two at a time. The others go inside and Daryl sets his jaw, reminds himself that he’s supposed to be pissed at Rick for not letting him go, not fawning over how stupidly good he looks these days. Rick gets to the top and opens the door, but Daryl refuses to let himself turn around, instead staring out over the open field to the Walkers beyond and wondering how many he could hit from here out of sheer frustration.

“Everyone’s fine,” Rick says and Daryl hears the loud clink of his boots walking forward. “They were gone when we got there. No confrontations, no nothing.”

“Great,” Daryl says, still looking at the field.

Rick slides up next to him and gives him a long look. “You pissed at me?”

“Yeah, man,” Daryl says and spits out what he’s been wanting to say all day. “Just because I’m gay doesn’t make me your damn housewife.” He frowns and tries to look mean, but from Rick’s smile, it’s not working.

“Well, if you stop acting like a woman, I’ll stop treating you like one.”

Daryl rounds on him and thinks about putting an arrow in his snide little face, but Rick holds up his hands in a peace offering. “Sorry,” he says. “But it made you look at me.”

Daryl shakes his head and then hauls off and punches Rick playfully, but harder than he really should have. Rick smile is contagious and Daryl hates him. “You’re a dick,” he says. “And what’s got you so happy these days?”

“We came back alive,” Rick says and shrugs. He pauses and looks at the floor, then back up at Daryl, meeting his eyes. Daryl holds his gaze and waits for what Rick has to say. “And,” Rick swallows and Daryl’s eyes move to his adam’s apple, watching it bob at Rick’s nervousness. “I came back to you.”

With a sudden swift motion, Rick leans forward, places his hand on the back of Daryl’s neck and presses their lips together. Daryl’s eyes close instinctively, but he still jumps under Rick’s touch. Rick puts pressure on Daryl’s mouth and kisses him hard, like it should be. No pansy shit, no dancing around it, just plain and hard and honest. Daryl clings to him, because what else can he do? This is Rick. Rick, who is kissing him. Who is pouring himself into Daryl just as hard as Daryl is pouring himself back. Rick, who is clinging to him just as much, hand matted in Daryl’s hair, tongue in Daryl’s mouth. This is the two of them, here, together, and it feels right. Like how it should be. Like maybe all the bullshit they’ve put up with has been leading up to this, to the two of them together right here, in this guard tower, tangled in one another.

Except it hasn’t. Daryl pulls back, moves away, puts the back of his hand against his mouth, hand on his hip, and looks at the floor and not at Rick. All this bullshit, he thinks, when what he means is all this death and dying. Shane and Lori. Sophia. “What the fuck are you doing?” he asks Rick and he still can’t look at him. “The fuck are you doing, Rick?” He hears Rick take a breath to talk, but he realizes quickly that this isn’t stopping. Something in him has been building and he can’t hold it in anymore. Maybe Rick has healed (isn’t that what Daryl’s been trying to do? Heal him?) but that doesn’t mean that he has.

“We can’t do this,” Daryl says and finally looks at him. “We can’t do this to Lori and to...to Carl and to Judith. It’s not right and I can’t take you away from them. I can’t. And I’m not even worth it. I…” Daryl realizes he doesn’t have the words and he waits for Rick to fill the silence.

Instead, Rick moves forward and does the impossible. He wraps his arms around Daryl and pulls Daryl to him in a solid embrace and it’s been so long since Daryl has been held that he’s forgotten what it feels like. He wraps his own arms around Rick, digs his nails into his back and holds on like this is the last time, because it might be.

“Shut up,” Rick whispers to him. “Just shut up. You’re worth it. You are always worth it.”

“Lori--” Daryl starts, but Rick cuts him off.

“Lori and I were done a long time ago. We were over when Shane…” Rick sighs. “And maybe it wasn’t even about us. Maybe it was just me and Shane. Or all three of us. Or none of us. I don’t know and it doesn’t matter anymore because I can’t live my life like that. Things are too precious here to do that and, Daryl, we don’t have that much time. We don’t.” Rick leans his forehead against Daryl’s and looks at him so close Daryl is almost cross eyed. “It’s a different world and none of that bullshit matters. All I know is that I’m happy when I’m with you. I’m happier than I’ve been in months. God, Daryl,” Rick hands in his hair almost hurt they are holding him so hard and Daryl’s breath has caught, waiting to hear what Rick has to say, knowing he has to hear it, has to believe it. “Daryl,” Rick breaths, “I’m happier than I’ve been in years and it’s so damned fucked up that I had to wait for an apocalypse to show it to me. I need you and I’ve needed you all along and I was _stupid_ not to see it. Just please. Let’s have this. Let’s take it because we need it. We deserve it and it’s us, you know? It’s always been us.”

Rick’s eyes are pleading, his voice is begging and all Daryl can do is nod. He melts into Rick like his body has meant to do that his whole life and he marvels at how perfectly Rick can hold him, make him feel, make him believe. “Please,” Rick whispers, holding him close. “Please just let us have this.”

Daryl pulls back just a little. He nods and then smiles, even if it’s sad and hurting, a work in progress. “You just take me with you next time, you fucker,” he says. “I’m your right hand man.”

Rick nods. “Of course,” he says, “I’m sorry, man. Of course I’ll take you. I should have never left you.” He moves to kiss Daryl again. This time, Daryl doesn’t protest. He lets Rick guide him to the wall, lets him kiss over his throat, his cheek, his mouth. He breathes Rick in and Rick breathes him in and it’s good and it’s peaceful and it’s them. Maybe this is what he meant, Daryl thinks, about coming back from the brink. Maybe it wasn’t just Rick who was there, maybe it was him, too, giving up on life and on this. Thinking that it wasn’t out there, that it couldn’t be. Not in this world. But there’s the two of them, clinging to each other in the guard tower. And there’s family below. A little girl who will grow up with more dads and moms and aunts and uncles than she knows what to do with and maybe that’s the point of all of this. Maybe they just needed to find each other so that they could heal, touch the edge and make it back, deal with the grief and build something better out of it. Go on living.

The sun begins to set on the field and the Walkers shuffle against the wall, their halted movements, small little grunts. But for the first time in a long time, none of that matters. Because they are here with each other, clinging to what life and hope they have in front of them, fully tangled within one another and happy.


End file.
